


Sometimes

by Miraphina Atherton (mew_tsubaki)



Category: NCIS
Genre: Alternate Universe, An old fic that rewrote Z's exit, Drama, F/M, Family, cameos from several others :P
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-19
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2020-05-14 22:09:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19282171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mew_tsubaki/pseuds/Miraphina%20Atherton
Summary: Occasionally, "all right" got to Ziva and Tony, and their old life beckoned to them.





	Sometimes

**Author's Note:**

> The NCIS characters belong to Donald P. Bellasario, not to me. So much has happened since 2011 to bring us season 11, so we need some Tiva! :) Read, review, and enjoy! Originally written for Hazelmallorn in the Gift-Giving Extravaganza 2014 forum; pairing: Tony DiNozzo/Ziva David.

"Another day in the market," Tony remarked as they strolled down the street. "Another day in the hot, Israeli sun."

Ziva smiled, something she was getting used to after everything that had happened. But two months had passed since the attempts on their lives and since Ziva—and, subsequently, Tony—had left NCIS and America behind. She thumbed her Star of David at the base of her throat and glanced at him. "I thought you told me you liked it here?"

Tony locked eyes with her for a split-second and then drew his eyes back to her. His eyes always needed a second look, to convince himself that, no, this wasn't a dream and that she wouldn't flee the moment he looked away. But it was true. Here he was, with Ziva David, living a new life he hadn't thought possible. His smirk eased into a genuine smile. "I love it here," he confirmed, putting a little more emphasis than was necessary on the word "love."

A long time ago, Ziva would've shied from the word. But she wasn't doing that anymore. Granted, she still had been jumpy and she shook at the word for a good month when he first came here to Israel to find her. But DiNozzos were nothing if not persistent, and his persistence had started to pay off. Ziva was, believe it or not, affectionate now, in the proper sense, and she had all but explicitly said "I love you" to Tony.

"I'll confess," Tony continued as he eyed the vendor booths they passed, "it's taken me a while to get accustomed to the food, but Beersheba isn't such a bad place. It's pretty modern despite being in the desert."

"Thank you for the vote of confidence in my birthplace," Ziva said a little dryly.

"No, I mean—it's nice." And he meant it. He found her hand without even looking for it and entwined their fingers as they turned and made their way back to the main road that would take them back to her neighborhood. For all he complained about the climate, it wasn't even that hot since it was November now. It was actually quite decent.

Ziva made an unconvinced sound in the back of her throat, but she leaned against Tony's arm. "The quiet life… _that_ is nice."

Tony nodded and enjoyed the warmth of her against his arm. The quiet life—it was nice, and it suited them. And he'd do his damnedest to make sure they held on to it.

* * *

They'd almost made it home the following day after their usual outing when a woman shouted the Hebrew word for "thief" in the streets.

Both Tony and Ziva halted. Ziva stood perfectly calm; Tony felt antsy and shoved his free hand in his pocket to try and hide his fidgeting. Still, they could hear the thief pounding the pavement behind them, the bystanders gasping and parting the way for him.

"Tony…," Ziva intoned.

He clicked his tongue against his teeth. "I know, I know…"

"We shouldn't get involved," she said evenly.

Tony pursed his lips.

Then the thief was upon them. As if they'd been practicing their whole lives—or maybe as if they'd never abandoned their training for even a second—Tony and Ziva split apart. Tony, still facing forward, hooked his right leg back and out.

The thief tripped brilliantly, falling forward, and Ziva caught him around the neck, flipping him onto his back. The air left his lungs as he hit the ground, but he was still alive.

Tony and Ziva peered at the guy, who was stunned by their quick reactions. Then the street erupted into applause as a few cops came running and secured the thief. Ziva passed the purse to the grateful woman, and they both accepted exuberant hugs from her. The cops eyed them up and down, looking a little annoyed that Tony and Ziva had been the ones to catch the perpetrator, but they didn't detain them.

"Well, that's enough excitement for one day," Tony quipped, running a hand through his hair. "How about a movie marathon when we get back?"

"You know, I was just thinking that I did not want to be around for another thief to show up," Ziva agreed hastily.

So, with the exception of having caught a purse-snatcher, Tony gave Ziva another comfortable night at home with a good meal and three old movies played back to back.

* * *

As if Fate had suddenly remembered that these two were trained special agents, the next several days were just as, unfortunately, eventful.

The day after the thief, Ziva caught some sketchy-looking teen boys around their neighbor, Grandmother Huss. It seemed like a hustling-type of situation, so Ziva tugged Tony down the street. Tony comforted Huss and made sure she hadn't given the boys anything while Ziva chased the boys off with that piercing gaze of hers and some sharp words in Hebrew that Tony had yet to learn but would definitely look up later.

The following day, they found a young Arab girl standing precariously close to the edge of a bridge. She climbed over the railing before they could stop her, but Ziva tried talking her down. When that didn't work, Tony made an attempt to be smooth while Ziva found the authorities, and, by the time Ziva and the cops appeared, Tony had convinced her to come back over the railing and put some solid ground beneath her feet.

Little instances like those persisted throughout the week, and Tony and Ziva were growing weary of it. "I came home specifically to _avoid_ these kinds of things!" Ziva griped, gesticulating.

Tony frowned and adjusted his shirt and jacket. "Well, maybe it's the universe telling us to get out and be more active."

The Israeli huffed and stared at her lover when he turned to face her. "Tony… Haven't we been active for several lifetimes?"

He gave her half a grin and pecked her lips. "Probably. But…that doesn't change the fact that it'd help us to bring in some money. Having McGee hold on to my things for Senior and selling my apartment helped, but I've been thinking for a couple of weeks about getting a job. How do I look?"

"Handsome. Maybe I'd hire you," she teased before hugging him and having his arms wrap around her. They pulled away. "Are you certain the university is where you want to interview? You cannot teach film there, Professor DiNardo," she added with raised eyebrows.

"Pish-posh, Professor DiNardo will always be the best film professor around. Anyway, I don't mind interviewing to be just a security guard. Hey, after the life we've lived, I think this is a brilliant yet safe use of my talents. Okay?"

Ziva nodded, and Tony left, borrowing her car to make it to the university, which was almost on the other side of Beersheba. Frankly, the university made living here seem more normal because, once Tony was inside, he could easily imagine there being a bustling city like D.C. outside with news helicopters flying overhead—not the dry winter of Beersheba which was interrupted occasionally by fighter jets passing through.

He had arranged the interview before his and Ziva's heroic streak had begun, but he had to admit that the heroics made him feel fairly confident that he was going to land the job, despite being a foreigner.

The interviewer, Joshua Newman, was a gruff guy with a worse junkyard dog look than even Gibbs, and he switched back and forth between Hebrew and broken English as he asked Tony questions.

"Excuse me, could you slow down for a second?" the former special agent requested, holding up a hand and flashing a winning smile.

Newman stared at him. "Now what?"

"I just—I didn't catch half of what you're trying to ask me."

Newman muttered something under his breath (jeez, there was a lot of slang Tony still had to learn) and shook his head. "No time for you who does not know Hebrew," the interviewing guard stated. He passed Tony's résumé back and waved him away. "Sorry. Job filled."

"What? Hey…!" But Tony couldn't protest much when a second security guard came into Newman's office and ushered Tony out, walking him all the way to the university's front doors, even. Tony shook the guy off and gave him a look, but the guard only rolled his eyes. "Dammit," Tony cursed, kicking the concrete.

He went home to Ziva, who knew enough to look at him and not ask. She cooked for him that afternoon and night, and Tony felt better as he ate, musing about how he'd rarely had her food back when they'd been team members in NCIS and she'd cooked for everyone but him. He supposed this was just another way they were making up for lost time.

* * *

A few—thankfully peaceful—days later, Tony was checking his email when Ziva got off the phone. "Everything all right?" he asked.

"Yes," she said curtly. Ziva paused and sighed. "Sorry… No. That was Mossad."

His ears perked up. "They're not trying to sink their teeth into you again, are they?"

She shook her head. "No, that was the director—just calling to check up on me. She likes to every now and then, and she's just a family friend when she does." Ziva tossed the receiver onto the couch in the living room. "She knows better than to ask the last of the David family to sacrifice any more for Mossad."

He nodded but eyed her carefully.

Ziva smiled gently and walked over to where he sat at the tiny kitchen table. "I'm fine, Tony. Really." She rested her chin atop his head and pointed to his laptop's screen. "Oh, new email."

The computer made its pinging sound, and he clicked on the new message. "Ah. That new company starting up ten minutes away from the university."

"What is it that they do?"

"Meh, not really sure. They're some kind of supply company—the school's one of their big contracts, because they make chemicals for use in the labs. I saw their flyer after the university booted me out and thought I'd apply."

Ziva nodded. "So they want you first thing tomorrow, huh?"

Tony shrugged. "I'm thinking tie tomorrow."

"Tie, it is."

* * *

With the university not panning out, Tony sincerely hoped the supply company could use him. Otherwise…he wasn't sure what other kinds of work he could look for in Beersheba.

The supply company had a nicer building than the university, Tony decided, although that made sense since they could afford to splurge more on a smaller amount of space. It was three stories high, and Tony was led up to the second floor for his interview. He couldn't help the smile he broke into when the very attractive H.R. lady laid eyes on him, but that was instinct.

Tony made it through a grueling round of questions (thankfully all in English this time around), and the H.R. person closed the folder and held her hand out to him. "I do not want to, ah, jump the gun," she said brightly, "but I think you are hired, Mr. Anthony DiNozzo."

"Great! Thank you, by the way, for—"

And, as Luck would have it, there was a scream downstairs.

The interviewer jumped, and Tony withdrew his hand, silently cursing to himself. People screaming, especially when people like Tony or Ziva were around, was never a good sign. He gave the interviewer a look to stay put and then turned on his heel, but the woman followed him out anyway.

Down on the first floor, employees were running to the end of the hall and congregating near the side exit. Tony gently pushed through the throng and…ah, yes. The one crime Tony and Ziva had yet to encounter in their week of heroics:

Someone had been murdered.

* * *

After seeing the body of a temp limp and bleeding out because of a badly and definitely not accidentally broken neck, Tony had first called Ziva to let her know he'd be getting back late.

The building was put on lockdown for hours, and the people who had last entered, including Tony, were gathered in the lobby while the employees were split into groups to be questioned. It rather annoyed Tony—c'mon! It was Rule 1 not to put suspects together!—but it couldn't be helped.

The Israeli cops questioned everyone. They took a special interest in Tony since he was the only foreigner, but he explained as best he could that he'd been present only for a job interview. "Look, I'm an—I _was_ an NCIS Special Agent. An American agent."

Maybe that was supposed to win him points, maybe it wasn't. Either way, the cops looked at him as if he were a particularly awful smell stuck in their noses.

"By the time they let me go," Tony informed Ziva late at night once he got back, "I think half of them wanted to send me far, far away—and not to that nice place in _Shrek_. Then again, half of them looked green and hopeful that they might get some help with the investigation."

Ziva shook her head. "This is unbelievable. At least they do not appear to suspect you."

"Yes, my silver lining." He grimaced and twiddled his thumbs.

She stretched her legs in his lap and sighed. "If they do ask you for help—which I am not saying is a possibility, because Israeli officers are like Mossad agents in that they keep to their own—are you?"

"What, going to help them?" The Italian–American groaned. "Ah, Ziva… Honestly, I don't know." He shook his head and released a long breath.

Ziva eyed him and leaned in and kissed his cheek. She swung her legs down and stood. Then she patted his arm. "Come sleep, Tony. Put this out of your mind for tonight. Then, in the morning…maybe we can talk about going somewhere, getting away from all of this."

He pursed his lips and didn't reply. "'Night, Ziva."

He could sense her frown, but she headed to the bedroom anyway. After fifteen minutes, he heard her grizzly-like snoring and smiled a little to himself. Then he opened his laptop and tried Skyping McGee.

McGee answered on the second ring. His face was cheery. "Hey, Tony."

"Quiet, Tim," he groused. "Ziva just went to sleep."

"Oh, sorry," McGee apologized, lowering his voice.

"Are the others around?"

"No. Dorneget's running late, and I don't think Gibbs' new hire, Bishop from NSA—the one I told you about—has adjusted yet to NCIS life. Ellie's nice—"

"Oho, so it's Ellie now?" Ah, teasing McGee always made him feel better.

McGee gave him a look. "As I was saying, she's nice. She might make a good fit as part of Gibbs' team." There was an odd pause. "It's weird being team leader, Tony."

"Yeah…you'll get over that."

The Elf Lord gave him another look, but he softened, and his smile returned. "Abby says 'hi,' by the way."

"I thought you said you were alone."

"Abby put me on notice—if she heard from Ziva before I heard from you, whoever heard first says 'hi' to both. You know Abby."

"Yeah, I do…"

"So what's up? I only get the sporadic email from you, since your place sold. Oh, forgot to mention—your dad was local last week, so we arranged to have your stuff shipped to him."

"Thanks, Timmy…" Tony rolled his shoulders. "Actually…something happened here…" And so he told McGee about the adventurous turn life had taken for him and Ziva.

McGee whistled. "…wow. That's a story that might even get Gibbs to crack a smile."

"I _know_ …! It sounds like the plot to a bad murder mystery." Tony ran his hands over his face. "So what do you think?"

"Wait, you're asking _me_ for advice on whether you should aid the investigation?"

"Yes. You're a smart guy, McGeek."

McGee rolled his eyes. "You sure do know how to flatter your friends, Tony. But…I'll say this. If you've really put the agent's life behind you, then keep your nose clean, unless they bring you in for further questioning. Then I'd ask for a lawyer."

"Ha, ha—so funny I almost forgot to laugh." Tony's cursor hovered over the end button.

"Hey, Tony."

"Yeah?"

"I was wondering if we'd hear from you again." He raised his eyebrows, the same question in his eyes.

Tony's mouth went dry, and he chewed on his lip. At last he said, "…moment of weakness, Tim."

McGee nodded. "Well, you know where we are and you know our email addresses. It's nice to hear from you, Tony. Tell Ziva we say 'hi.' Oh, and Abby sends her love, too."

The movie lover almost cracked a smile. "Thanks, Tim. Good morning."

"Goodnight, Tony." And McGee ended the call first.

Tony put the computer away and finally got up. He paused to make sure Ziva was still snoring. Then he went and joined her, thinking that maybe she was right, and all he needed was a good sleep.

* * *

Things were quiet between them the following morning. As Ziva didn't have a TV (they had to watch movies on the laptop), at least they weren't barraged by the news of the murder all over the television. Tony felt antsy, but he also didn't feel the need to leave the house anytime soon.

Watching Ziva, it was clear to him that she thought the same. Still, as they sat and went through two pots of coffee, they couldn't completely do away with talking about all that had happened the past couple of weeks.

"You know," she began, "it is…not so bad, helping others. Again." She sipped her coffee and observed him over the rim of her mug. "As long as I do not dirty my hands."

Tony smirked and reached for her left hand, kissing it. "No, you're good. Never seen prettier hands in my life, Zee."

She quirked an eyebrow at him, but the slight flush of her cheeks and the softness of her eyes told him that she appreciated his words. "You know what some of the children around here are calling us now? Superheroes." She snorted. "Imagine that. Us, superheroes. As if we could be."

He finished his coffee. "I know you're concerned about everything that happened, and what we left…but…all that's behind us. I'm fairly sure all your skeletons and ghosts have been put to rest, Ziva."

Silence settled in the kitchen for a moment. The clock ticked loudly on the wall between the kitchen and the living room. "What are you saying?" she queried.

He raised his eyebrows and cocked his head to one side. "I'm just saying what I know you're thinking."

Ziva licked her lips and tried not to chuckle.

* * *

Ziva straightened his tie and ran her hands along his jacket. Tony looked her over and brushed a stray hair behind her ear.

"We're crazy, aren't we?" he asked grimly.

Ziva grunted and shrugged. "Insane, yes. But, as you like to remind me, Tony, there is good work to be done." She smiled warmly at him.

"Yeah…I have no clue how this is going to go. I mean, I don't even know why they let us past the front desk, for crying out loud. We could end up with desk jobs for all we know."

"That would be fine with me. So long as I have you in my line of sight."

Tony kissed her briefly and sighed, giving her one more one-armed hug. "Yeah, same."

The elevator dinged.

"Well, here goes nothing."

The doors opened…and who should be the first to see them but one Leroy Jethro Gibbs.

For what felt like a full five minutes (really, only twenty seconds), Gibbs stared them down, blue eyes probing brown and green. His gaze flitted over them quickly and then—at last, he smirked at them and tossed something back at both of them.

Their NCIS badges.

Gibbs turned. "You two leave like that again," he said, "and I'm gonna come looking for you. Gear up!" he yelled, walking back to the pen, where McGee, Dorneget, and the blonde who had to be Bishop gathered their things.

Tony and Ziva exchanged a look and exited the elevator. They looked up and saw Vance on the second floor. His expression said, "We'll sort things out later." But his nod added, "You heard the man—there's a job to do."

So much for the quiet life for Tony and Ziva…but maybe this was what the quiet life _was_ for them. It suited them. And Tony would do his damnedest to make sure they held on to it.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I rather liked this. :D I think Ziva really changed with everything that happened with Bodnar, and so she'd be a bit more fragile, but I don't think she could really leave the NCIS life behind, just as Tony couldn't. Them trying to live in Israel peacefully just wasn't going to happen, *lol*. I like the idea of Dorny joining Gibbs' team at last, but I'm curious as to how the dynamics would work if Tiva were to come back like this… Ah, well. Just a nice thought I might entertain more in the future. Hope you liked this, Hazelmallorn! It was a lot of fun to write. :D And special thanks to my dad, papa mew, for helping me flesh out the story and editing it. -w- This fic was also inspired by the Clazziquai song "[Come On and Go With Me](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LXwO4Ib7Mf4)."
> 
> Thanks for reading, and please review! Check out my other NCIS fics if you liked this.
> 
> -mew-tsubaki :D
> 
> 2019 note: Not as old as my other NCIS fics, this one only being 5yo instead of 8yo, but still interesting to reread while season 16 airs these days. I do like this reality, esp with Dorneget on the team ;w;, and I just… There are many ways a post-Ziva era could've been handled, but at least things are starting to come around? Idek. I still like this idea of Tiva being in Israel for a while.


End file.
